


Our Skin

by CockAsInTheBird



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Australian Billy Hargrove, Boys In Love, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff, Love, M/M, Mechanic Billy Hargrove, Non-Chronological, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Steve Harrington, Soulmates, Stand Alone, Suggestive Themes, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24505885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockAsInTheBird/pseuds/CockAsInTheBird
Summary: A recollection of how two soulmates fall in love, in defiance of distance and diversity, as told from the perspective of Steve Harrington, a rich kid living in Hawkins, Indiana, with distant parents and a small group of friends.Drabbles and Ficlets will be posted in this work! They're all stand-alones with the only relation them being part of the same Soulmate AU - otherwise I'd end up with hundreds of works for Harringrove if I didn't gather some of them up.Will range from fluff to smut!
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	1. Hearts and hearts and hearts

“ _Did you see the hearts?_ ”

Steve feels it scribble and tickle across his wrist. And as he reads the words there, his cheeks heat up with an embarrassing hue of pink.

Oh he had seen the hearts. Littered across his lower region, _far down_ to where his boxers had covered them up when he woke this morning, saw them as he undressed for the shower, and he knew _exactly_ what that meant.

He doesn't even know what Billy looks like. They haven't gone far enough to send pictures of themselves yet, mostly because Steve is _terrified_ of what his soulmate might look like, or what he'd think of Steve.

Billy once spent a lengthy phone call describing himself; blond curls, sun-kissed skin, hard muscles, slight freckles, a sharp jaw, pale blue eyes. His voice is wicked, the grin always apparent in his tone, but oh how _long and deep he can go_. The picture he paints as if he's Adonis.

Steve hadn't been nearly as nice describing his own image; brown, tall hair, pale skin dotted with moles and beauty marks, brown eyes, maybe a bit muscular, nothing special really...

Then Billy had asked about how his ass looks, and _“How big is your dick?_ ”

But Steve only blushed _profusely_ at that and stuttered out “I'm not telling you that!”

To which Billy simply laughed and called him a _pretty boy_ for the first time. And Steve still remembers how his heart fluttered along with butterflies at that.

“ _Go to sleep!_ ” he finally responds with, in ballpoint pen just below where Billy had written.

It's almost midnight in Melbourne, Australia, where Billy lives with his shitty dad, a passive step-mom, and a “bitchy little sister” as he says it.

“ _Call me later? Y/N._ ”

And Steve scoffs. He looks up at the blackboard where the teacher is explaining... _uhh, something something_ , he can't follow, distractions or not, he's failing all of his classes, so why even bother trying by now.

The two of them have scheduled phone calls twice a week; 7am on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when it's 9pm in Australia, because those are the only times where both of Billy's parents aren't home at the same time.

But it's only Monday, halfway through first period and Steve's heart aches to hear Billy's stupid accent.

So he circles the Y _several times_ and writes “5pm?”

The response is immediate and brief. A simple “k” followed by a ;)

Steve bites down on his tongue at that little winking face, and stares at it for _far too long_. _Hopes it means what he thinks it means_.

He then presses his pen down once, leaving a singular _dot;_ their way of showing that they've seen the latest message. And he rolls down the sleeve of his sweater to hide what's making him smile and blush something so terribly in the middle of... is it algebra class?


	2. Early morning, late night

For a Saturday morning, Steve is awake surprisingly early.

When his alarm rings at 8am, he shoots up and has exactly ten minutes to become clear headed after too little sleep, maybe 4 hours or so; it's so hard to fall asleep when his skin _tingles_.

Feet stumble over yesterdays outfit, as he rushes into his bathroom to turn on the shower, drowsy movement guided by a groggy head from lack of sleep, but it's worth it all when he catches himself in the mirror.

“ _What song best represents you?_ ” Steve had written on his bicep, and the response was-

“ _Rock you like a hurricane ;)_ ” Which... isn't a surprise. “ _You?_ ”

“ _Don't you forget about me_ ”

He still feels a slight blush creep up when he sees what Billy's response had been. “ _I won't._ ”

“ _Show me your moles again_ ” Billy had requested, written across his ribs.

And Steve had taken his time with that; circled every single one he could reach from the comforts of his bed. Up and down his arms, his chest, _that he shaves for this exact reason_ , abdomen, shins... _thighs... hips... down where he trims his pubic hair,_ body oddly... _excited_ to reveal certain locations, and his heart races as he re-reads, in impressive cursive-

“ _Oh ;)_ ” down between his legs.

He catches himself grinning like a fool in the mirror.

Then looks at his left hand, words on his wrist-

“ _Take my hand_ ”

The circle in the middle of his palm has faded a bit, probably worn off by Billy as he had gone about his day-to-day in Australia, while Steve had slept in America.

And he reaches for the ballpoint pen on the sink – a tactic he was quick to learn, is to always have something to write with in every room of the house, rather than just carry one pen with him everywhere and occasionally lose it – then retraces the circle in his palm, now fresh and clear blue.

It takes less than 10 seconds before he feels pressure in the same form again, as Billy draws on top of the circle in his own palm.

Next there's a gentle and familiar tickling across his naked hip-

“ _Good morning princess_ ” and a little crown scribbled above the i.

Steve is so, _so_ tempted to draw out a heart, to just make that tiny little shape down there, but the both of them _understand what a heart so low means_. So he simply signs off with a singular _dot_ , to show “message received.”

And in the shower he does his best to wash away old messages and song lyrics; to clean up the canvas for today's fresh pen strokes. His skin is itching to be touched and used again already, ready to be marked up everywhere the two of them can reach.

When the clock says 08:09am he's out of the shower and drying his hair – never before has he washed up so quickly, but for good reason, because barely does the clock switch to 08:10am, when the phone on his bedside table rings.

“Harrington residence, this is Steve,” he says all courteous and well mannered, but who else would it be other than-

“Hey pretty boy,” Billy drawls out.

A smile grows _immediately_. Steve leans against the table and smooths his hair back from where it lies limply against his forehead. “Hi.”

“You busy?”

Steve hums in feigned contemplation and looks around his room, _only slightly messy_. “I guess I can take a break from my _busy morning_ for you.”

The way Billy chuckles deep in the receiver urges forth goosebumps down Steve's bare arms.

“Want me to put on some music?” Steve asks per the usual.

Since he lives alone and hates the silence of such an empty home, he listens to music near constantly, and it eventually became a bit of a thing between them, to always have something running in the background.

“Yeah, play the song you mentioned earlier.”

The song he had said “represented him best”, although having thought more about it, there are several songs that could describe him and his life, _Tainted Love, Sweet Dreams are made of this, Don't you want me_. Plenty of songs put in to words how utterly _lonely_ and _starved for attention_ he truly is, but _Don't you forget about me_ had been the subtlest choice in a constant struggle to not come off as _clingy_.

“Ok, hold on!” the tone he had intended was soft, but it jumped right into eager before the words had even left his tongue.

Swiftly with practiced hands, he slips out the vinyl from its sleeve, lifts up the plastic cover for the turntable, and places the stylus in the grooves of the LP. The music is low and Jim Kerr's voice fills the room.

Steve dances; pumps his shoulders to the beat and spins his way back to the bed, then lands with a _poomf_ next to the phone receiver he had thrown onto his covers.

“Is it too loud?” he asks with closed eyes as he listens to the song.

“No it's good,” Billy says with a clear smile to his tone. “And the song isn't _that bad_.”

Saying that they have vastly different tastes in music would be a _severe understatement_. Sure, a few of the records that Steve has lying around his house is technically from rock bands- Van Halen, Inxs, even Simple Minds is rock, _but not the right type of rock_ according to Billy. _It's pop rock, it doesn't count_.

“Sleep well, princess?”

Steve feels his lips twitch further up at that _stupid name_ that started out as a tease years ago when Steve had been crying about not getting his way with his rich parents, but now it was something _dear_.

“Mmh yeah,” he mumbles out and leans into the phone. “Didn't get much sleep though.”

“Hey you can't blame that on me, I was at work all day,” Billy laughs, “You're the one that started it all... couldn't stop thinking about you after you fell asleep.”

“And now I'm awake and you're going to bed,” Steve whines only a bit.

“Yeah... time zones suck.”

There's a short silence, as the chorus plays-

_Don't you, forget about me_

_Don't, don't, don't, don't_

_Don't you, forget about me_

“Tell me about your day.” He crawls further up the bed till he meets with his pillows, and takes the pen from his bedside table.

“Same shit as every other Saturday really, spent all day at work _getting distracted._ ”

The insinuation in his tone makes Steve laugh.

“My co-workers really tease me about it sometimes, they noticed all the circles on my skin and asked about it.”

“And what did you say?”

“The truth; that my soulmate was marking all _her_ moles...” It's clear in his voice that Billy stopped smiling. “I'm sorry that I haven't told them that you're a-”

“A _guy_?” Steve interrupts, his own mood slightly sour, _but he gets it; he can't blame Billy for the way the world works_. “Billy...” he speaks softly, “I don't want you to feel bad about not telling anyone that I'm _Steve_ and not _Stacy_. I've only told one person here the whole truth.”

“Robin, right?”

“Yeah, from history.” He pops off the cap on the ballpoint pen, and sits up to start drawing little flowers up on his thigh.

“Hmm...” Billy hums as he has probably noticed. “How's it going with her and Heather?”

“Pretty good; Robin's become an oddly proficient swimmer suddenly.” And Steve chuckles, “I'm kinda feeling neglected though. My best friend is spending more time with her girlfriend than me!”

“Well...” Billy's voice suddenly so _warm_ and _sweet like honey_ , as he says, “What can you do when you're in love.”

And Steve's heart beats an extra few times upon hearing Billy say that word. _Love_. Yeah, what can you do...

“Anyway,” Billy says as there's no response from Steve. “There is this one guy at work, uhh, think his name is Julien? Julian? Julius? Something with a J, it doesn't matter. I think he might be gay, too.”

Steve perks up a brow with a sly smirk. “Oh? And how do _you_ know that?”

“I dunno,” his response a slight mumble, “He just... gives off a vibe?”

And the other brow goes up. “A _vibe_?”

“Yeah! Like!” frustration apparent at the fact that Steve doesn't just _get what he's saying_. “You know... all... well groomed?”

Steve chortles loud enough for it to drown out the music through the phone. “Ok, go on.”

“His hair is just always so nice, face clean shaven and skin always so clear...”

“Oh you must have gotten pretty close to notice all of that,” Steve is still bubbling with leftover laughter.

“Steve...” but Billy sounds so _worried_. “You know I wouldn't-”

“I haven't asked you not to,” Steve interrupts and looks up into the air, as if he could catch Billy's eyes and give him a reassuring look. He can feel that they're all so suddenly on the brink of a _rather important discussion that they've already had_.

“I know! I know...” Billy sighs. “I just want you to know that I haven't... _been with anyone_ ever since you and I started...”

 _Getting serious?_ Are they serious? With an ocean between them, can they be...

“Yeah, me neither...” Steve's heart thumps as his mind starts spewing out ideas of what it would be like... _to be with Billy_. “But you can. If you want to. You don't need my permission, Billy.”

“Yeah you've said that already, and the same goes to you, too, of course.”

“I know...”

But there's a clear air of _assumption_ between them, despite the thousands of miles. _Assumption, expectation, hope_ that there's a _chance_...

The song repeats again.

_Won't you, come see about me_

_I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby_

Yet the two of them don't say a word. Just listens to the song, together. The type of silence between them that can only be achieved with someone you're so _comfortable with_. When Steve feels Billy draw in his hand, and looks to see a heart in his palm. A little, _shy_ heart.

And he can't help but smile warmly; feels his cheeks heat up with unspoken feelings- the kind that just came naturally over the last 7 years, and that he wishes to cherish forever.

He draws a heart around Billy's, just slightly bigger, surrounding it, like an embrace.

“Getting tired yet?”

“Yeah,” Billy sighs, sleepy and exhausted. “I always feel so drained during winter. It's so cold and dark... I miss being a lifeguard, but no one wants to go to the beach in this shitty weather. And I use my body in a different way as a mechanic, _and_ I have to deal with _customers_ and _co-workers_...” he complains about it a lot, but Steve knows that Billy loves getting to spend all day getting dirty and fiddling with cars.

Once talked about opening his own shop _somewhere_. Says he hasn't quite _decided where to do so yet_.

_Assumption, expectation, hope..._

“Should we hang up?”

“ _Mmmh_ , no, let me just hear the song a few more times,” is his reasoning, but they both know that that's not why.

They always struggle with hanging up, which is why they don't do this as much as they want to- other than it being _expensive_ of course. Despite their souls being connected and bodies bonded this way, being on either end of the phone line is when they _truly exist together_. Even in silence, just knowing the other is _there too_ keeps the world away.

“Want me to trace my hand?” Steve whispers softly, his voice a sweet little thing, only for Billy's ears.

“That'd be nice, yeah.”

And oh how he wishes he could see Billy now; eyes closed, a warm and dopey smile, tan body naked under the sheets. There's nothing he wants more in life, than to fall asleep with his muscular arms wrapped around himself, to share body heat, to share their breaths.

But for now, he can settle with drawing the pen along the lines in his palm; creating an endless pattern that Billy describes as _feeling like you're running your finger over my skin_.

The closest thing to caressing his soulmate that he can get. _For now_. And the last thing he hears from Billy's end, is him humming with pleasure of the gentle touch.


End file.
